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PART 0 Candlewick Life . Eleven A NEW HOME
.KITTY FLICKED A SWITCH NEAR THE DOOR, AND THE ENTIRE house lit up. What I saw made me gasp.
It was so wonderful, this clean and modern house. It thrilled me to know I was going to live here. The whiteness--all this pure snowy cleanliness!--and ele gance! I shivered again, seeing cleansing snow that would never melt with sunlight, wouldn't be turned into slush by tromping feet. Deep inside me, all along, I'd known there had to be a better place for me than the cabin with all its dirt and unhappiness.
From second one I thought of this as Kitty's house. The authoritative air she took on, the way she ordered Cal to take my "nasty thins" to the basement, told me clearly that this was her house, not his. There was not one thing to indicate a man lived in all this feminine prettiness, nothing masculine at all here, also giving me the notion that Kitty was the boss in this house.
While Cal followed her instructions, Kitty went around switching on other lamps, as if dim corners terrified her. I soon knew my judgement was wrong. Kitty was looking for flaws in the new paint job.
"Well, now, it sure is betta than yer shack in t'hills, ain't it, kid? Betta by heck than anythin in Winnerrow . . hick town. Couldn't wait t'escape it. Don't know why I keep goin back." A frown of displeasure darkened her pretty face. Soon she began complaining that the workmen, left on their own, had done a great many "wrong" things. She saw her home differently than I did--to her it was not wonderful at all.
"Would ya jus look an see where they put my chairs? An my lamps? Nothin's right! I tole em where I wanted everythin, I did! Ya kin bet yer life they're gonna hear about this--"
I tried to see what she saw, but I thought everything looked perfect.
Kitty glanced at me, saw my awed expression, and smiled with tolerant indulgence. "Well, c'mon, tell me what ya think."
Her living room was larger than our entire cabin--but the most surprising thing about this room was the colorful zoo it contained. Everywhere, on the windowsills, in corner cabinets, on the tables, lining the white carpet up the stairs, sat animals made into fancy stands to hold plantsranimal faces and forms made picture frames, lamps, baskets, candy dishes, footstools.
Live plants sprouted from the backs of giant green ceramic frogs with bulging yellow eyes and scarlet tongues. There were huge golden fish with gaping mouths and frightened sea-blue eyes bearing more plants. There were blue geese, white and yellow ducks, purple and pink polka-dotted hens, brown and tan rabbits, pink squirrels, hot-pink fat pigs with cute curly tails. "C'mon," said Kitty, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the center of that domestic zoo, "ya gotta see em up close t'appreciate all t'talent it takes t'make em."
I was speechless.
"C'mon, say somethin!" she demanded.
"It's beautiful," I breathed, impressed with all this white, the wallpaper that looked like white silk tree rings, the white lounging chairs, the white sofa, the white lampshades over huge fat white shiny bases. No wonder Kitty had been so appalled by the cabin with all its generations of filth. Here, there was a fireplace with a carved white wooden mantel and frame, and a white marble hearth, and tables of a richlooking dark wood I was to find out later was rosewood, and glass and brass tables, too. Not a speck of dust anywhere. No fingerprints. Not a thing out of place.
She stood beside me, as if to see her glorious living room through my naive country eyes, while I was afraid to step on that white carpet that had to dirty more quickly than a dog could wag his tail. I glanced down at my clumsy, ugly old shoes, and right away pulled them off.
My feet sank deep into the pile as I drifted dreamlike from one object to the other, marveling. Fat cats, skinny cats, slinky, sneaky, slithering cats. Dogs sitting, standing, sleeping; elephants and tigers, lions and leopards, peacocks, pheasants, parakeets, and owls. A mind-boggling array of animals.
"Ain't they somethin, though, my creations? Made em, I did, with my own hands. Baked em in my huge class kiln. Gotta little one upstairs. I hold classes ever Saturday. Charge each student thirty dollars, an got thirty who come regular. None of my students is as good as I am, of course, an that's a good thin, keeps em comin back, hopin t'outmaster t'master.. Did ya notice all t'fancy decorations, t'fiower garlands I put on em? Ain't they somethin, ain't they?"
Still overwhelmed, I could only nod in agreement. Oh, yes, I had to be impressed that Kitty could create such wonders as those carousel horses galloping around a white lamp base. I said again, my voice full of admiration, "So beautiful, all of them."
"Knew ya'd think so." Proudly she picked up and displayed what I might have overlooked, "Teachin makes fer lots of cash; won't take no checks, then there's no taxes t'pay. Could teach ten times as many if I'd give up my beauty-salon business, but I jus can't see myself doin that when I earns so much when t'celebrities come t'town an wants their hair done. Do every-thin from bleach an tint jobs to perms and pedicures, my eight girls do. Save myself fer special customers, an in my shop I sell thousands of what ya see all around ya. Clients love em, jus love em."
She stood back and crossed her strong arms over her high-rise bosom and beamed at me. "Ya think ya could do as well, do ya, do ya?"
"No. I wouldn't know where to begin," I confessed.
Cal came in from a back door and stood back and looked at Kitty with a certain kind of disgust--as if he didn't admire her "creations" or didn't like all the hours she spent teaching.
"Would ya say I'm an artist, would ya?"
"Yes, Kitty, a real artist . . . did you go to school and study art?"
Kitty scowled. "There's some things ya jus know how t'do, born knowin, that's all. I'm just gifted that way--ain't I, honey?"
"Yes, Kitty, you are gifted that way." Cal strolled toward the stairs.
"Hey!" yelled Kitty. "Yer fergettin this kid has t'have new clothes. Kin't let her sleep in our newpainted house in those ole rags she's got on. She stinks, kin't ya smell her? Cal, ya get yerself back in that car an drive ta t'K mart that stays open all night, an get this chile some decent clothes specially nightgowns--an ya make sure they're all too large. Don't want her growin out of stuff before they're worn out."
"It's almost eleven," he said in that cold, distant voice that I had heard before
in the car, and was already beginning to recognize as his disapproving voice.
"I KNOW that! Ya think I kin't tell time? But no kid is sleepin in my clean house without a bath, without a shampoo, without a delousin, an, most specially, without new clothes--ya hear!"
